


Blank Checks

by Fiendfyre



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Not Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Compliant, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 06:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2418134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiendfyre/pseuds/Fiendfyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you make a bet with Nick Fury you shouldn't be surprised when he wins. Coulson loses a bet, but gains far more than he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blank Checks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [orderlychaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlychaos/gifts).



> For Chaos, Happy Birthday! I hope you like it :)
> 
> Thank you Sinead for being a wonderful beta and editing for me even though she's one of the busiest people I know. I did mess around with it after she looked at it and all mistakes are my own.

Agent Philip J Coulson entered SHIELD an angry ex-ranger disillusioned by life outside of the army. He chose to follow his best friend into something completely unknown rather than return to the duty he knew. It had taken him a while to reconcile his ranger past with the murky world of the intelligence community. Once he had made the transition, he found that he enjoyed being an Agent even more than he had enjoyed being a soldier. He worked on his natural tactical abilities and trained himself into the kind of agent that every agency wanted: confident, competent and completely forgettable. He quickly worked his way up the ranks, partly helped by his friendship with Nick Fury but mostly through his own skills, and cultivated a reputation for achieving the impossible.

Three years after joining SHIELD, Assistant Director Maria Hill moved him to acquisitions and asset management, a change he wasn’t particularly happy about. It was so far removed from the duties of a soldier that he felt like it wasn’t a good use of his time or skills. To his surprise, it had proven to be one of the best decisions a superior ever made for him. He flourished and brought in some of SHIELD’s most useful assets. Such assets included Agent Sitwell, a badmouthed ex-marine with a similar attitude to himself, as well as several ex-mercenary or foreign spies, brought in from the cold.

There were two that Coulson--not to mention every other acquisition agent in SHEILD and most other alphabet soup agencies--desperately wanted to recruit. The first was the notorious but shadowy Black Widow, and the second one of the most effective mercenaries of recent decades and a man that even SHIELD couldn’t get much intel on. Hawkeye’s file had even more infuriating blank spaces than the Black Widow’s, and he had never been photographed or identified on CCTV. Coulson alternated between a kind of awed respect for Hawkeye’s talent and mounting professional frustration that so little was known about him.

Coulson knew that he must have wasted hours staring indignantly at those blank spaces. He took his own inability to fill them as both a professional failure and a personal affront. There was some evidence that Hawkeye worked with Widow on occasion, but nothing concrete, and there was nothing known about their personal lives, pasts or even their legal names. Widow’s file included a grainy picture from the early 1990s of a red-headed teenager garrotting a fully grown man and a brief description from an agent who had spotted her since. Hawkeye’s file, however, was conspicuously slim.

_Hawkeye_

_Appearance: Male or male-identifying, all else unknown._

_Identifying marks: Unknown_

_Confirmed Mercenary jobs: See form MK-342_

_Suspected mercenary jobs: See form MR-125_

_Age: Unknown_

_Aliases: Unknown_

_Relatives: Unknown_

_Known affiliates and allies: Black Widow (?) see attached form A4-G12 for details._

Two years into his search, it was by sheer accident that Phil discovered an old poster at a church fete, in Indianapolis of all places. He was so distracted by the large purple text proclaiming “Hawkeye; The World’s Greatest Marksman one night only at the Big Top!” that he almost lost the man he was tailing. He sent Sitwell ahead to tail his mark, then stopped to buy the poster. When they finally arrived back on base (36.67 hours later), Coulson marched straight to the asset research department and handed it over.

“How is it that over a dozen skilled analysts were unable to make this particular connection?”

The head of the department looked at the poster and rolled his eyes. “We looked into it, sir. The circus made him up as a drawcard because it was behind on revenue.”

“And you know this how?”

“Because this Hawkeye never existed. There’s no name for him, no records of any kind. All other circus members at the time the poster was printed were accounted for in semi-legal employment records kept by the owner or in some form of arrest or taxation record. This Hawkeye is never mentioned and was never paid, on or off the books.”

Coulson said nothing, but produced another sheet of paper. A photocopy of a newspaper article from the time. It read: “Hawkeye the World’s Greatest Marksman wows audience”. Down the bottom was a grainy photograph of a young boy in very tight purple spandex.

“I...I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand how our analysts could have missed--”

“That would be because there’s no digital copies of most local papers. You should have sent someone to look into it. It is a credible lead, the best we’ve had. This is a clear oversight from your analysts and the entire department,” Coulson replied evenly. "I think we can reasonably assume that this is the young Hawkeye."

"The boy in the photo couldn’t be more than fifteen. Hawkeye’s first confirmed mercenary kill was less than two years after this article was printed. I’m sorry, sir, but there’s no way a seventeen-year-old kid could’ve made that shot. It would set our age estimates back more than ten years. Our analysts insist that Hawkeye had sniper training in the armed forces before he turned mercenary."

"Your analysts are wrong.” Coulson held up the paper again. “This boy, whoever he is, has the skills and equipment consistent with what we know of the mercenary. The kid’s got a bow and arrow and is calling himself Hawkeye. It's not exactly a huge leap."

In the end, Coulson was right. He usually was.

The breakthrough lead to more than a few sleepless nights for Coulson and the entire acquisitions department (as well as the analysts, but Phil thought they rather deserved it for failing to make the connection in the first place). Eventually, the investigating agents tracked down several of the performers around during Hawkeye’s circus stint and identified the boy as Clint Barton. They were then unable to find any record of Barton’s birth in any state, which set them back almost six months. Finally, they found an obituary mentioning the death of Barton’s parents and the tragic orphaning of their two young boys. They were still unable to find any copies of the Barton boys’ birth certificates, but were able to find records of the older Barton’s incarceration. Barney was happy to roll on his brother and cheerfully gave them everything he had. Such a casual betrayal of family made his skin crawl, but he only smiled and thanked Barney for the information.

With Barney’s information, which included a more recent picture and several aliases, they began tracking Hawkeye’s movements. They came close enough to see the elusive mercenary but never close enough to extend him an offer. Hawkeye never fired on the SHIELD agents that tried to talk to him, but he never gave them a chance to get close either.

Coulson added an entry to Hawkeye’s file after Barton managed to escape no less than two dozen of SHIELD’s best agents by back flipping _off a roof_ :

_Skills: Excellent Marksman, significant acrobatic talent_

And to his mental paperwork, Coulson also added:

_Potential Issues: Impulsive, a danger to himself, paranoid_

After that particular incident, Coulson made a judgement call and decided that they needed to back off, otherwise Hawkeye would get too paranoid and go to ground. He spent hours agonising over possible scenarios that would allow him to get close enough to attempt a recruitment speech. Unfortunately for him, Barton’s paranoia was somewhat justified and many unhappy clients or relatives of assassinated drug lords wanted the man dead in a variety of creative and unpleasant ways.

In the end, he was fresh out of ideas. So, like an intelligent and rational human, he asked for help. Nick was surprised, to say the least, and had a good laugh at Phil’s expense, but he was the director and recognised how useful an asset Hawkeye could be.

“I appreciate you letting me know that you’re out of your depth,” Fury said with a well concealed smirk. “I think I should talk to him.”

“He’s jumpy, sir,” Phil replied, shaking his head. “He may just try to kill you on sight.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, Cheese.”

Phil sighed. He loathed the nickname, but it had become a sort of code for him and Fury. It said: _trust me_. Phil knew he couldn’t afford to ignore their years of friendship no matter how much he wanted to bring Hawkeye in. If Fury thought he could do it, he probably could.

“Okay, Marcus. If you’re sure.”

"He hasn't had good experiences with federal agents and you've become a bit of a suit.”

“It usually works very well,” Phil argued, “most potential assets find me unassuming and unthreatening. That’s the point.”

“This guy has the best eyesight in the business, and he’s been a merc since before he could legally drink. I think it’s safe to say he’s not buying that, Cheese.”

“Fine. But I bet you can’t even get a face-to-face with Barton.”

“Give me a timeframe and I’ll take that bet,” Fury replied with another smirk.

“You’re a cocky bastard, Marcus,” Phil said, laughing despite himself. “I give you three months. What’re you willing to bet?”

“If I win, you take three assignments without question--only three, but I can take my time giving them to you. If you win, I’ll let you head up Project Frostbite until we run out of money or complete the project.”

Phil thought about it for a moment. It wasn’t an unfair bet, and he trusted that Fury wouldn’t give him an assignment he would object to without a valid reason. His embarrassing love of all things Captain America made the deal impossible to decline--he’d been begging Fury to assign him to Frostbite ever since he found out it was an active project.

He held out his right hand. “You’ve got a deal.”

***

 

Phil had no idea how he managed it, but less than a month later Fury walked into HQ with a fully armed Hawkeye at his side, both of them looking completely relaxed. He tried to ignore the jealousy, both professional and personal, but with limited success.

While he was disappointed that he wouldn’t be put permanently on the Frostbite team, he was glad that Hawkeye had come in from the cold. By all accounts, the mercenary lifestyle hadn’t been good for him. He looked older than his years, tired and hungry. His body was a patchwork of bandages. He scanned the room for threats almost constantly, a habit that made most junior agents incredibly uncomfortable.

Barton wasn’t built like a soldier or a boxer--the closest Phil could think of was a diver, with those incredible shoulder and back muscles, strong legs and lean muscle all over. He held himself like he was waiting for an attack, but he didn't’ tense up like a lot of self-trained fighters did. Instead, he held himself loose and fluid and fought using a fascinating and incredibly effective fusion of street fighting and martial arts. Watching Barton and Romanov spar was one of the most entertaining things Coulson had ever witnessed. He was itching to get in the ring with one (or both) of them to test his own skills. While he doubted SHIELD could teach them anything they didn’t already know he knew they could teach him a lot. Phil hoped that the Handler assigned to them would realise what a brilliant team they were.

Director Fury came to him only two hours after Agent Clinton Francis Barton, alias Hawkeye, had been officially signed as a SHIELD asset after two weeks of intense training. He leant in the doorway and grinned.

Phil sighed but didn’t comment as he, pulled out a blank piece of paper and jotted down a quick note, scrawling his signature at the bottom. “I owe you three missions. No questions.”

“Damn right you do.” Fury took the piece of paper and reached for a pen. “And I’m cashing one in right now.”

“Oh?” Phil asked. He wasn’t aware of any high value missions up for grabs and chatter on assets had been fairly quiet, most people laying low over the Christmas period.

“I’m moving you from acquisitions. It’s a permanent assignment.”

“Where?” he asked.

“You’re going to be a Handler. You’re taking Sitwell with you. You won’t normally get individual assets--I’m giving you two strike teams to oversee. Sitwell will be the individual assets Handler exclusive of one, who you’ll take personally.”

“Why only one?”

“Because he asked for you. Because he knows you can’t ask any questions and you can’t refuse.”

“I’m not allowed to ask him any questions?”

“His file will be available to you. However, it will be classified unless and until that information becomes vital for a mission.”

“Why?”

“Because he asked for as much privacy as possible and this is the best way to make that happen. I take my promises seriously. If he wants to disclose information to you, that’s his choice. Otherwise, you get what the file says.” Fury handed Phil a thin file from the inner pocket of his jacket.

Phil read it with trepidation, but the first line made him smile.

 

_Clinton Francis Barton aka. Hawkeye_

_Appearance: Caucasian, Blond hair, blue eyes, 5’10”_

_Identifying Marks: Level Seven Classified unless given approval by Director_

_Age: Level 7 Classified unless approval given by Director_

_Relatives: Charles Bernard “Barney” Barton_

_Previous employment: Level Seven Classified_

_Aliases: Clive Burton, Charlie Bradford and Level 7 Classified_

_Known Affiliates/Allies: Natasha Romanov aka Natalie Rushman aka Natalia Romanova aka Black Widow (See asset intake form R3-12)_

_Skills: Marksmanship, tactics, acrobatics, infiltration, fluent in American Sign Language (ASL), fluent in Russian, Conversational Spanish, Skilled Pilot (see form PR-132 for details), expert hand to hand fighting._

_Handler: Agent Philip J Coulson_

_Missions completed: See attached mission summary (MR-245) for details._

 

“You recruited the Black Widow? When? _How_?”

“Someone shady from the NSA paid him to kill her. He chose not to and made her recruitment a condition of his. It wasn’t exactly a hardship considering we’ve been after her for years.” Fury shrugged. “Not a bad day’s work though.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised.” Phil sighed and put his head on the desk. “I work for _years_ to bring these guys in and you just waltz into his motel room and he says ‘yeah sure, can I bring a friend?’. I am so mad at all of you right now.”

Fury just laughed.

“You’ve always been a dick, Marcus, but I’ll take your assignment. You shouldn’t have wasted it on this. You know I wouldn’t have said no.”

“This one wasn’t about you. It’s about Barton. He needs a steady handler, and I don’t trust anyone else with him. This deal means you can’t back out on him if things get tough.”

“I’m not that kind of person, Director Fury,” he replied evenly.

“You haven’t met him. He’s going to try to piss you off so he can test your breaking point, and mine. He’s not going to feel safe until he’s done that.”

“I promise I won’t give up on him. From what I can tell, too many people already have.”

***

Phil only regretted that promise a few times in the first few months, when things seemed like they couldn’t possibly get any worse. Barton was somewhat of a menace. He was antisocial, highly secretive and deliberately abrasive. He fought with his fellow assets constantly and was written up several times for insubordination (though never by Phil). Barton had a hard time following orders, but eventually Phil realised it was usually because he had a better idea, a better way of getting the job done, and didn’t think that Phil would listen to him. Essentially, Barton’s problems boiled down to trust issues, which was incredibly hard to deal with, especially without any background information.

In the end, he developed mental paperwork to help him deal with Barton-related conflicts. It wasn’t the kind of record he would ever show to anyone (especially not Jasper--the smug bastard would never let him live it down), but it was useful on several occasions 

_Potential issues: Impulsive, paranoid, unable to see his own worth, (falsely) believes himself to be unintelligent, trust issues, authority issues, self-sacrificing._

_Personality: Incredibly loyal, street smart, kind, clear headed, calm under pressure._

_Appearance: extremely physically fit_

_Skills: Understands other people’s weaknesses and uses it to his advantage (see mission reports MR-493 through to 503), willing to fight dirty, professional when required, patient teacher (recommend for junior agent training programs Marksmanship: Advanced and Hand-to-Hand: Advanced), unique perspectives on potential problems._

Even after giving Barton more responsibility during missions, allowing him to aid in their planning and the training of junior agents, he was still acting out and holding something back. It was pretty obvious that Barton didn’t trust SHIELD, and by extension didn’t trust Coulson. He understood why someone with Barton’s past experience would be reluctant to open himself up for further betrayal but in order to be an effective team they needed to rely on their teammates. Barton seemed to be having trouble working in large groups with a dozen or more agents, and many of the ops Coulson ran were extremely large scale. Coulson decided to form a smaller team to help Barton and Romanov adjust. Coulson, Sitwell, Romanov and Barton formed what became known as Strike Team Delta. Some of Coulson’s favourite missions were completed by Strike Team Delta and he found that the small group felt almost like a family.

Unfortunately they were still required to work with the other Strike teams and Hawkeye was leant out to the other teams more often than Phil would have liked. Most of the time he was able to go with Barton on those missions, although not as a field agent. Phil really hated being stuck in a safe house while Barton was in the field but he always made sure that he could see Barton’s perch from the safe house. He would never have been able to forgive himself if something happened to Barton on his watch.

“Update, Barton?” Coulson asked on their private com-line.

“I wonder if Agent Morrissey knows he spilt chilli on his tie? You’d think he would try to be a little more professional, especially with you sitting right there.”

“Barton, eyes on the target,” he replied brusquely.

“But you fill out that suit so well, Coulson,” Barton teased. Coulson couldn’t see his facial expression but he was fairly certain Barton was leering with an exaggerated wink.

“Thank you,” He replied dryly, “And the mark?”

“No movement so far, but I’m good to wait. I have a very scenic spot.”

“Yes, Prague is a beautiful city.”

Barton chucked quietly but he didn’t cut the com-link. Coulson didn’t mind, it was nice to hear Barton’s even breathing on the other end of the line and he imagined being a sniper would get quite lonely.

A few hours later Barton quietly took the shot and planted the tracker on their arms dealer.

“Missions accomplished,”

“Well done, Barton. Wait until the mark has left the area, then you can come back to base.”

“It looks nice and warm in there, I think it’s about to snow.”

“I’ll put the heater on for you,” he replied with a smile.

“I’d prefer it if you warmed me up, sir.”

Phil ignored him and turned his com-link off.

The flirting was a new development. One which served the dual purpose of being incredibly distracting and extremely unprofessional. Strangely Barton was also completely avoiding him while off-mission. It felt like some kind of test but Phil didn’t know what the right answer was, but he thought it might have been designed so that he would lose however he handled it. So Phil chose to ignore the flirting on missions.

Barton did sometimes work with other agents when Phil wasn’t available but that generally worked badly for everyone involved. Several other senior agents reported insubordination from Barton but that was limited to questioning orders and never involved flirtation. Phil personally reviewed the cases of insubordination and in every case the agent in charge had overlooked something important that would have resulted in mission failure or death if Barton hadn’t questioned the orders. He was pretty sure Barton’s behaviour on base had something to do with those insubordination reports, so he tried to make Barton feel more comfortable with him outside of mission settings.

When he noticed that Barton wasn’t sleeping well, Phil bought a soft leather couch with his own money and put it in his office. Through a combination of manipulation and luck, he was able to entice Barton there to do paperwork. Five minutes after sitting down, Barton was curled up in an ball fast asleep. After that Barton spent a lot of time hanging out in Phil’s office, doing paperwork sometimes but he also read books (fantasy, Phil supposed it made sense, considering the weapon Barton used). They talked sometimes, but most of the time they sat in companionable silence while they worked. Phil was used to interactions that required effort so this easy silence was unique and it was something he never wanted to give up.

One particularly stressful week Coulson was battling a cold and paperwork for a mission that went FUBAR. The mission had been tough on everyone, Sitwell was still in medical recovering from a stab wound, Romanov had a concussion, Phil had cracked ribs and Barton had a broken collarbone. He was so tired that he didn’t even notice Barton come inside balancing two takeaway cups on top of a pizza box until he spoke.

“I come bearing pizza.”

Phil hid his surprise and looked up. “How are you feeling, Agent Barton?”

“I’m okay,” he replied, but he was holding himself very carefully and it belatedly occurred to Phil that he probably shouldn’t be carrying anything with a broken collarbone, “how are the ribs?”

Phil deliberately sidestepped the question and said, “I think we could both do with a break.”

Barton raised an eyebrow, put the pizza down and pulled out a blister pack of pills. “I’ll take mine if you take yours.”

Phil rolled his eyes but grudgingly took his medication. “Fine.”

They ate in silence as they waited for their meds to kick in. After a while Barton wiped his hands and lay back on the sofa.

“I thought you were meant to be on medical leave like the rest of us.”

Phil scowled, “Technically. I told the doctors that I’m fine. Besides, I’m just doing paperwork. I’m not likely to get seriously injured or make my ribs worse.”

“Paper cuts are serious business, Coulson,” Barton smiled, “but seriously, you can’t expect me to listen to you next time you tell me to follow medical instructions. Why don’t you go home?”

“Will you go home if I do?”

“I live on base. So technically I am home, boss,” he replied cheekily.

“Do you even have a TV?”

“There’s one in the common area. For some reason it’s always playing Iron Chef.”

“We can’t have that,” Phil said shaking his head, “how do you feel about Dog Cops?”

“Never seen it,” he shrugged.

“Get comfortable, Barton,” Phil ordered as he made his blinds go dark and pulled up his big projector screen “I’m going to educate you on the wonders of bad television. I can’t have you getting bored while you’re on medical leave. Last time that happened you started shooting junior agents with nerf darts.”

“Nat started that!”

Seeing Barton outside of a work setting was strange but enlightening. Their easy silence translated surprisingly well into easy conversation and they talked about many things. Their conversations usually at least mentioned their work for SHIELD, because it was the biggest thing they had in common, but that wasn’t all they talked about. Barton still refused to talk about his childhood or mercenary years, and Coulson didn’t pry. Even though they mostly talked about work Coulson still had more fun with Barton than he’d had in years. He had known that Barton was tactically brilliant but hearing him talk about his past SHIELD missions made it clear to Phil exactly how brilliant Barton was. It was clear that Barton enjoyed his work, and the mix of enthusiasm and skill was incredibly attractive.

But while Clint was no longer completely avoiding him on base and seemed to be less wary of SHIELD in general, there was still something off about his interactions with other agents. Phil wanted to do right by Barton, to be a good handler and to make him feel comfortable at SHIELD, but he wasn’t sure what else he could do. Phil wanted him to feel safe but Barton was still twitchy and untrusting around senior agents (with the notable exceptions of Phil, Sitwell and possibly Fury), probably for very good reasons. Barton was paranoid and untrusting but he was also incredibly talented, charming when he wanted to be and a genuinely good person.

He wanted to ask Fury for advice, but Director was too busy to see him unless it was directly related to a mission or an emergency. Fury was spending a lot of time with Agent Sitwell and Phil couldn’t help but be a little jealous. Phil missed his best friend more than he thought was possible. Marcus hadn’t actually gone anywhere, but Nick Fury wasn’t Marcus Johnson and it showed. Nick trusted less, talked less, and asked more of him than Marcus ever did. Phil knew it probably wasn’t healthy to talk about his friend like he was two different people, but in many ways he was. 

All good SHIELD Agents wore masks, but not all of them chose the same way to hide. Some hid in plain sight, some hid in the shadows and some hid by strategically revealing false information.The Director of SHIELD fixed that problem by becoming two people--outside work (on those rare, precious occasions) he became Marcus Johnson, but the rest of the time he was the secretive superspy Nick Fury.

Phil envied the people that could be honest and upfront with their work colleagues without appearing unprofessional or weak. He knew that Agent Coulson was an unrepentant, sometimes cold, unfailingly competent, almost fearless and an entirely boring person outside of work situations. Phil, however, was a sarcastic dork who was afraid of spiders, had a love-hate relationship with cats and a crush on someone who was utterly unattainable. It had taken years for him to open up to any of the Agents he worked with, and even then he only felt comfortable befriending Agents at the same level as him. Those agents that were handlers and co-ordinators or top assets weren’t people he generally had to order around on a daily basis, nor were they his superiors, so he felt comfortable enough showing a little of his real personality. Marcus was, of course, one exception, others being Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov, who had managed to slip past his barriers before he could even think about guarding against them.

Agent Barton’s mask was particularly fascinating to Phil. Barton flirted with everyone but didn’t sleep around nearly as much as the rumour mill suggested--he was actually very careful about who he spent his time with and was an extremely selective sexual partner. Barton got propositioned fairly often both on and off mission but, apart from brief relationships with Agent Morse and Agent Drew, rarely accepted those invitations. Barton flirted with Phil constantly during missions but was stalwartly professional in routine interactions, which didn’t help Phil’s pathetic crush on the man. He’d always found competence in others extremely attractive, which was part of the reason he’d developed the crush on Barton in the first place. The flirting made him think, pathetically, that maybe he had a chance, but the professionalism in the workplace made it clear to Phil that Barton wasn’t interested in him. Barton’s mask was extremely effective. He made a name for himself as a flirt and also cultivated a reputation as unintelligent and insubordinate, with his highly classified file adding an aura of mystery and fear. This effectively reduced his interactions to the people who refused to believe rumours, or saw through his unintelligent facade and made most junior agents avoid him like the plague.

In the end Phil thought it was probably a good thing that Barton wasn’t interested in him. The longest relationship he’d ever had was less than a year and he had a very bad habit of falling for people who were unable to return his affections. In the early days of his working relationship with Marcus Johnson he had been head over heals for the man. He had never told him--it wasn’t exactly safe to come out in those days, especially not while on active duty, and Phil had loved his job more than anything, or anyone. Phil thought that Marcus might have suspected, but he couldn’t be sure. It was about a year after their first meeting (and Phil’s shocking moment of lust at first sight) when Phil finally got over his little infatuation. They were on leave for the first time and it suddenly struck Phil that he wasn’t in love with Marcus Johnson the person, he was in love with the idea of a perfect man he’d constructed in his head and he’d been enamoured by Marcus the soldier. It was easy enough to let go after that, and Marcus and Phil became much closer as friends. Close enough that Phil left his entire life behind to follow Marcus into SHIELD. Close enough that he gave him not one, not two, but _three_ blank checks in a bet. Phil was certain he would regret that very soon.

Because of that bet he had to wait (im)patiently for Clint to reveal his past rather than just reading the file like he did for all Jasper’s assets.

He waited for a very long time.

It probably didn’t help that Phil wasn’t willing to reveal too much of his own personal life in fear of damaging his professional reputation. Barton and Romanov saw more of Phil than any other agent, but he still held himself back because he was their superior and he wasn’t sure that either of them could respect dorky Phil Coulson. But even Agent Coulson couldn’t keep his walls up forever, and those walls had always been semi-permeable with Barton and Romanov so parts of his out-of-work personality were bound to seep through. And the more they learned about him the more he learned about them. He learned that Romanov (Natasha by that point) loved to cook but refused to clean up afterwards, that despite rumours she saw Barton as a beloved older brother, not as a love interest. He learned that Barton (not Clint, he still didn’t have that particular honour) loved all animals and hated most people. He learned that Barton still had nightmares and slept with three knives within an arm’s reach. He also learned that Barton could burn water but if given five minutes and a roll of duct tape could fix almost anything, that he also didn’t mind cleaning up after Natasha (whether in the kitchen or otherwise). Even those small glimpses of personality were enough to fuel Phil’s fascination for the marksman. The more he learned, the more he wanted to know.

The most important thing he learned was how to trust them, and how to earn their trust in return.

Coulson and Barton were lying low in a safe house in Barcelona waiting for extraction when Barton finally opened up about his past. While they hid from the hot summer sun (and the drug runners related to the mission they’d just finished), Barton spoke quietly of his time in the circus. Coulson spoke of his own childhood in return, which was far less traumatising but had had it’s fair share of trials. There was a reason he’d chosen to join the army instead of taking one of the scholarships he’d been offered, and it wasn’t a happy reason.

Six months later in Kandy (Sri Lanka), Barton spoke of his time as a mercenary and Coulson told stories from his Ranger days while he tried to stay conscious. Barton didn’t laugh at him at the time but two weeks later, once Coulson had been weaned off the painkillers, he laughed for a good ten minutes.

“Cheese!” he laughed loudly. “I can’t believe this. I don’t know if I can ever take you seriously again!”

Coulson glared. “Anything I told you cannot be repeated to anyone. Ever.” 

Barton wiped tears from his eyes and tried to school his features, but after glancing at Coulson burst into peals of laughter.

“I’m sorry, I can’t!”

“Laugh it up, Barton,” Coulson replied. He was blushing but also smirking. “I have a picture of you in your circus outfit.”

Barton stopped laughing and turned a particularly appealing shade of red.

“We’re both going to pretend we never had this conversation,” Barton said seriously.

“That’s probably for the best, Agent Barton.”

 “If you’ve seen me in skin-tight spandex, I think you can call me Clint.”

Coulson couldn’t stop a surprised smile from appearing briefly on his face. “Thank you, Clint.”

Clint snickered “Does that mean I get to call you Cheese?” 

“No,” he replied firmly. “But you can call me Phil.”

There was something about shared embarrassment that did wonders for their working relationship, which flowed naturally into an easy friendship. Unlike with Marcus, seeing the man behind the mask did nothing to curb Phil’s lust for Clint. Instead it allowed him to move from what was definitely an infatuation into something that was closer to, but not quite, love. Now that his feelings for Clint had become something more substantial, Phil was starting to have trouble compartmentalising during missions. Clint had stopped acting aloof and professional but only after Phil had relaxed his own professionalism. He hadn’t realised that Clint had been taking his cues from Phil, but the relaxation did wonders for both of them and Clint started making friends with his fellow agents. Jasper and Clint had a slightly worrying friendship wherein they made rude gestures at each other from across the hall and tried out different coffee shops to see how many of them they could get kicked out of in a week (their record being thirteen). 

Barton becoming friends with Jasper had a hidden consequence for Phil. Jasper started needling Phil about his crush more than usual. Previously, Sitwell had maybe made a teasing remark or subtle innuendo about once a week, but after befriending Barton (and more importantly Romanov) he got bold about it. Barton never said anything but he did seem to retreat a little, no longer sharing things about his past. He stopped sleeping on the couch in Phil’s office and he would make excuses not to spar with him. It was this retreat that made Phil realise exactly how important Barton was to him. At least Barton’s friendship with Jasper kept them both around more. Jasper had been working very closely with Fury on missions even Phil wasn’t cleared to know about and they seemed to be getting _very_ close. He was happy for his friends--his oldest friend and his best friend getting together was pretty much the best case scenario. He knew they would treat each other well and he would congratulate them when they finally told him about it, but for now he was enjoying acting oblivious. Frankly, it was amusing that they thought they could hide it from him.

There were hundreds of missions that Fury didn’t need to use his blank checks for. Phil was unfailingly loyal to SHIELD and his agents and assets. If Fury asked something of him he would usually do it without question. It wasn’t until many years later, after he got back from New Mexico and the second strangest mission he’d ever been on (don’t even ask about Santa Monica, 2006), when Fury finally cashed in his second check. This time Fury visited him at home in Phil’s dingy apartment that he’d moved into when he joined SHIELD and never bothered to leave. Fury rarely visited Phil outside of work hours anymore. Marcus was slowly becoming a distant memory overshadowed by the secrecy and ruthlessness of Nick Fury, but every now and then Phil would catch a glimpse of his old friend and feel a little less alone. Phil opened the door and wearily stepped aside without a word.

They were both silent for a long moment. “Aliens, Nick?” Phil asked eventually. “Did you know?”

“We had our suspicions but nothing concrete. Despite what the conspiracy theorists might think, we don’t actually have an area fifty-one.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “Does this have anything to do with Thor?”

“Yes,” he replied simply, handing Phil a file.

Phil read it through once, then again just to be sure he wasn’t hallucinating, before he spoke.

“No, Nick. I can’t do this.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to. I’m cashing in.” He pulled out the paper Phil had signed all those years ago, crossed off two and wrote one.

“Fuck you so much, sir.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t believe it was important, Cheese.”

It was the closest he was going to get to a “please” from Nick Fury, so he took it. While they may have grown apart in the years they’d been at SHIELD, he still trusted Marcus Johnson with his life, so he had to trust Nick Fury as well.

“Okay, but let the record show that I think this is a _terrible_ idea.”

“Did you read the part about Captain America?”

Phil sighed. “I did, and I don’t understand what game you’re playing at. He’s dead.”

“Is that so?” Nick asked casually. “Well then, I don’t know who we have slowly defrosting with a steady heartbeat at New York HQ.”

He wasn’t even angry or surprised anymore, but he didn’t like being out of the loop and he absolutely hated being manipulated. He understood national (and world) security. He understood secrets and lies but he still had trouble accepting them from the man who had been his best friend. “He’s been gone for decades. It’s impossible.”

“We found him and brought him to New York three days ago. You were a little busy trying not to get blown up by an alien space robot. Nothing is impossible anymore.”

“It’s a brave new world,” Phil replied sardonically.

“There’s still time to go see him. He won’t be awake but I can promise you that he’s alive.”

“This I have to see, but I don’t know if this is the best assignment for me.”

“You will be the Avengers’ liaison. That’s the best place for you to be once they get together. We’re going to need them. You gave me a free pass and I’m using it.” 

“And you put Barton and Romanov on the team. Why?”

“Because they are the best. And because, blank check on no blank check, there’s no way you’d give Barton to another handler. Not even Sitwell. Not after what happened last time someone other than you planned and ran his missions.”

Phil shuddered. Barton had been sent on a classified WSC mission a year and a half earlier and had come back in a coma with several broken bones and burns from a cattle prod. He’d spent several months recuperating in Phil’s apartment watching DVR-ed episodes of Dog Cops and Dancing with the Stars and eating all of Phil’s Iron Man Starbursts (which Phil refused to admit he’d bought).The distance that Barton had created between them seemed to be closing after they lived together for two months. Phil thought it was probably hard to go back to professional distance after months of arguing about mundane things. After several weeks of petty fighting, they’d figured out a routine that Phil really missed. Phil would cook and do the laundry, Clint would do the dishes and fold clothes, and they would both ignore the mess in the bathroom until it became unbearable. It was nice and domestic and Phil wondered if Clint missed it as much as he did.

“I said I would do it. Don’t make it out like you’re doing me a favour here.”

Nick grinned. “Okay. See you in room 3124 in an hour. You wanted to see our sleeping beauty and I am a good friend, so I made it happen.”

Phil didn’t even dignify that with a response. But he did visit Captain Rogers while he was unconscious and counted it as one of the best days of his life. Not for the creepy reasons that one might expect, but rather because it reminded him that hope wasn’t always as naive as he thought it was. Phil surrounded himself with everyday heroes. With the Jasper Sitwells of the world who stood up for the people who couldn’t save themselves (even if he did it with the dirtiest mouth Phil had ever heard). With the Maria Hills who lead teams of heroic people and made tough choices in the name of freedom and liberty. Steve Rogers may have been an everyday hero before the serum, but after that he became Captain America, who was something else, a _Super_ hero, and while Phil thought that was amazing he found he still prefered the everyday heroes of the world. The people who, like Bucky Barnes, did what was right even though they weren’t as strong or as invulnerable as Captain America. Clint Barton reminded him of Bucky Barnes. He was cocky and brash but also incredibly loyal and would give everything to keep other people safe. And Phil? Phil would pick Clint Barton over Captain America or Iron Man or even Thor anyday. And Nick Fury knew it and wasn’t afraid to use it against him.

There was a reason that Fury had needed to cash in. Phil liked to think he had good instincts, and right now they were screaming at him to change course. Something big was coming and they weren’t ready for it.

***

 As he had predicted, everything quickly went to shit. Clint was taken by Thor’s bratty younger brother and turned against them before anyone even realised what was happening. The Avengers as a team could barely tie their own shoes. So when he saw a chance to do some damage to Loki, he took it and couldn’t care less about the consequences. He didn’t want to die, but they needed time and he desperately wanted to give Natasha enough time to recover Clint. So he ran in with an untested weapon and went up against an alien god. It went about as well as you would expect.

Nick was the one who found him, bleeding out over the cool metal floor. Phil was having trouble keeping his eyes open.

“I’m giving you an order, you hang in there!”

“You cashing in?” Phil rasped, halfway hoping he’d say no so the pain would stop but at the same time wanting so desperately to live, to have something to hold onto.

“Yeah, Cheese,” Fury said. “Hell yes I’m cashing in. I’m using my last ace and you better not ruin it for me.”

“Okay.”

He closed his eyes. He found he couldn’t open them again for a long time.

Phil woke up in a completely silent, but not empty, room. His head felt heavy and his tongue like sandpaper, so he knew straight away that he was on some kind of heavy duty painkiller. Before he even opened his eyes he knew that Fury was there, sitting on his left with someone else on his right. It was to them that he looked when his eyes finally did open, and he was shocked to see Agent Barton, tired and a little beaten up but very much _alive_ and there was no way Fury would’ve let him in the room if he were still compromised. 

“Clint?” he croaked weakly. Phil catalogued all the small cuts and scrapes on Clint’s face and arms but relaxed when he couldn’t see any signs of serious injury. He focused on Barton’s tired, but clear, eyes and found comfort in them. He tried to convey how relieved he was to see him sitting there, whole and mostly healthy, as he said, “Report?” 

Barton nearly jumped out of his seat and checked the monitors before he very carefully touched Phil’s arm, as gently as though he thought it might shatter.

“Everyone is fine,” he said, voice rough. “We’re fine.”

“Loki?”

Clint’s eyes hardened. “Thor has him. We’re going to send him to Asgard very soon.”

Phil closed his eyes. “Good.”

“Okay, Barton,” Nick said after a moment’s pause, his voice uncharacteristically kind. “He’s awake, he’s recovering. You’ve talked to him, as promised. And now I’m going to have to order you to go. I’ve stalled too long already and the Council is getting impatient.”

“No!” Phil protested with what volume he could muster. “In cases of extreme coercion, Agents are not charged with treason or any other offense they committed while under said coercion. Article 34 subsection 123b of the SHIELD rules and regulations handbook, Director.”

Clint looked stunned. He opened his mouth to reply but Fury spoke before he could.

“I know that, Phil,” Fury assured him with a tired smile, “but Barton here has voluntarily submitted himself to disciplinary action just to make my life harder.”

“A psych eval should be enough to prove a case for coercion. I won’t let the Council draw and quarter him as a scapegoat,” Phil argued, before directing his words to Barton. “Clint, please. You did nothing wrong, how could you possibly fight against something like that? We’ve never been trained for it and not even Natasha could have fought that amount of sheer unexplainable power.”

He was starting to feel lightheaded from all the talking and his chest was aching in a strange way that promised serious pain sometime soon. The lights were suddenly too bright, and he closed his eyes.

“Okay, Phil,” Barton said softly. “I’ll go to psych. I’ll withdraw my request for disciplinary action if that’s what you want.”

“We’re going to have a discussion later,” Phil promised, eyes closed.

“Looking forward to it, Sir.”

A month or so later, once Phil was finally out of hospital, Clint still hadn’t visited him again and seemed to be dodging his messages, emails, memos and phone calls. He’d tried sending Stark to fetch him, but not even JARVIS could find him. If anyone would be able to find Clint it would be Natasha, but Phil hadn’t wanted to ask her to betray Clint’s trust. In the end Natasha didn’t need to be asked, she dragged Clint to Phil’s apartment herself, two days after his release from hospital.

“Talk to him,” she ordered. Phil wasn’t sure who she was talking to, but he suspected it was both of them. Then she physically forced Clint into a chair and said something quietly in Russian that Phil could neither hear nor understand. He had learnt ASL after being assigned as Clint’s handler but the cyrillic script and something about the sentence structure of Russian defeated him so he’d never mastered Russian for Natasha.

Natasha walked out and left silence in her wake. Unlike most of the silences in their relationship this one was anything but comfortable. Phil wanted to move from the couch and sit closer to Clint, to reassure him with his proximity because he wasn’t sure how to do it with words, but he was still in quite a bit of pain and didn’t want to pull his stitches. Instead he thought about what he could possibly say. He knew from the other Avengers that Clint had taken the news of his ‘death’ hard, and even if he only believed it for a few hours it was enough to have a lasting impact. Phil wasn’t really worried about that, he was more concerned about Clint’s feelings about the entire Loki incident, about how he obviously felt responsible for some of the destruction caused during his time as Loki’s puppet.

Once he’d figured out what to say he cleared his throat and spoke softly. “I know you feel responsible for my injuries, and for what happened on the ‘carrier. You need to talk to someone about this. Someone professional. Not because you’re crazy or unbalanced or I’m afraid Loki is still there, because I know he’s not, but because it will help you. I want you to understand why nobody thinks this is your fault.”

Clint laughed humorlessly. “Maybe they should.”

“No,” he shook his head, “they shouldn’t. Loki should feel the weight of his actions. I know I can’t stop you from feeling guilty, and maybe you’ll feel that way for the rest of your life, but you need to talk to someone about it. I don’t blame you and I never will.”

Clint put his head in his hands and spoke towards the floor. “I don’t think I can talk about this.”

“Will you try?”

Clint looked up, his eyes were red but he wasn’t crying. He looked tired and defeated, an expression Phil had hoped he would never see again after Clint’s first few months at SHIELD. Phil held eye contact with him and eventually Clint breathed out a soft, “Okay.”

Clint went to a therapist who specialised in military and ex-intelligence personnel. SHIELD maintained a staff of psychologists but it was easier for him to see someone outside of the agency. Phil couldn’t be sure exactly how much it was helping, but he could definitely see improvements. Clint started smiling again after a month, laughing after two and cracking lewd jokes after three but even six months after the Battle of New York Clint still had days where he locked himself in his room or shot on the range until his fingers bled. Phil’s own recovery was equally difficult but in a very different way. He was barely allowed to recuperate at his own apartment for a week before he was quickly whisked away to Avengers Tower to be coddled by the Avengers (and JARVIS and Pepper, who were basically Avengers). Some days he felt almost like his old self, but a lot of the time he felt old, tired and so very broken.

It was frustrating for him to see the Avengers in their fully fit and functional glory while he was very slowly recovering but living with them had it’s perks. Stark had hired a personal Physical Therapist for him as well as giving him his own _floor_ of the tower, he got to hang out with his childhood hero, he watched bad reality TV with Banner (who found it oddly soothing) and saw his two favourite agents almost every day. It wasn’t a bad deal.

***

 A few long months after getting out of hospital and Phil was still stuck at his desk doing mind numbing paperwork. When he wasn’t at work he was being babied by the emotionally challenged Avengers. He was fairly certain Fury was punishing him for nearly dying and making him use up his last freebie. Fortunately for him, Jasper Sitwell was also restricted to the New York base as the temporary Avengers Liaison and was often available with paperwork of his own, a dirty sense of humour and excellent coffee.

Phil was surreptitiously checking up on Avengers’ alerts for the twelfth time in an hour when Jasper finally snapped and restricted his access.

“For fuck’s sake Phil!” Jasper said with a frustrated sigh. “I think we’re going to need an intervention soon if you don’t stop being so goddamn codependent with Barton. You know he made me promise to look after you while he’s out with the Avengers. _Me_. Look after _you_ ,” he chuckled. “As if I could. As if I could defend you better than you could defend yourself even when you’re like this. We’ve got to talk.” 

“Barton is very protective of his team. I just happen to be part of that team. So are you, on occasion. It’s nothing special,” he replied, not looking up from his tablet.

“Bullshit, Phil. You can’t be that blind.”

“I really don’t think you have room to throw stones, Jasper,” Phil replied evenly. “Or are we going to talk about your relationships too? Are we going to talk about Nick?”

Jasper flushed, but his determined look didn’t waver. “Not the point, Phil.”

“Then what is the point?”

“The point is that you need to talk to your agents about boundaries and feelings and expectations.”

“The boundaries are clearly outlined in regulations, my feelings don’t matter compared to that, and my expectations of my agents are clear." 

“I think you’ll find that the boundaries are not set in SHIELD regulation. There are no restrictions on handler-asset relationships or any kind of romantic and/or sexual relationship between consenting adults. I looked into it personally. It’s one of the reasons I chose to come to SHIELD. That and your wonderfully inspiring recruitment speech.”

“I believe my recruitment speech for you was something along the lines of ‘at SHIELD we don’t throw our agents under the bus we also have really fucking cool guns.’”

“Shh,” Jasper said sarcastically, looking furtively around Phil’s empty office, “You’ll ruin your reputation as an emotionless robot.”

Phil snorted into his coffee. “Are they back to the Robot rumours? I was rather enjoying the one about me as an alien changeling.”

“I think Romanov started that. Clint’s been working on an elaborate ‘son of the forbidden love child of Captain America and Peggy Carter’ rumour.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or horrified.”

“Both?” Jasper suggested with a grin.

Phil thought for a moment. “Yep. Both is good.”

“Nobody ever makes up hilarious fake rumours about me. I’m offended.”

“The real stuff is more interesting than anything I could make up, Jasper.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Jasper allowed. “I _do_ have a fascinating life.”

By unspoken agreement they abandoned the conversation and went back to their incredibly dull paperwork. About five minutes later the red alert alarm sounded. Phil sighed and Jasper swore loudly. The oscillating sirens indicated a direct attack on HQ and Phil always thought it was a poor choice because it gave him a headache every time.

“Looks like we’ve got some real work to do, Agent Sitwell,” Phil said with a grin. He probably shouldn’t have been so happy about the attack but he was bored and, despite what some junior agents thought, he really, really hated paperwork. Desk duty was a nightmare, especially when it was ordered by medical. He had technically been cleared for ‘light duty’ but at SHIELD there was no such thing. It was paperwork or full field status for someone in Phil’s position, so paperwork it was.

“Oh no we don’t, you aren’t going anywhere!” Jasper shouted over the sirens.

“Come on, we need all hands for this!”

A moment later they heard crashing in the hall, muffled shouting from somewhere above them and the sound of something large smashing through a wall.

Phil took out his sidearm and saw Sitwell do the same out of the corner of his eye. They both levelled their weapons at the door. A moment later a man in black SHIELD armour opened it. He was holding a bow.

“For fuck’s sake, Barton! Announce yourself next time, would you? We could’ve shot you!” 

Barton shut the door behind him and turned to face them, his trademark grin in place. “You wouldn’t do that, Sitwell. I’m too pretty and you know you couldn’t endanger this fabulous ass.”

Sitwell scowled. “Unlike Coulson, I find you neither charming nor attractive. You might want to save your best lines for people they’ll actually work on.”

Phil tried desperately not to blush and resisted his childish urge to stomp on Sitwell’s foot.

Instead, he turned to Clint and asked calmly, “Report?”

Clint immediately dropped his cocky smile. “Hostiles entered through the third floor balcony and blew the fire door. Not the smartest option because it’s clearly labeled as alarmed, but whatever. They’re moving towards the R&D basement testing labs so probably won’t stop by this floor, but just to be safe one of the Avengers--that would be me--is guarding it. The others are heading down to R&D. Sitwell, you should head down as well, make sure there’s no rear team coming in later. There are roughly thirty hostiles left standing but radio in with Stark to check. Com-channel two.” 

Sitwell nodded and cautiously opened the door. When he’d established the hall was clear, he glanced back over his shoulder. “I’ll keep you updated.”

Phil moved to follow him but Clint sidestepped in front of the door and closed it firmly.

“You’re not going anywhere, Coulson,” he said with a wide, too bright smile. “We’re setting up a command centre here.”

Suddenly, Phil had had enough. He’d had enough of everyone walking on eggshells, watching him with worried and guilty eyes when they thought he wasn’t looking, cataloguing his every wince and ache like it was mission intel. He was done with it all.

He pushed Barton’s shoulder hard, a muffled thump of impact as his back hit the door, then leaned in.

“You and I are going to have a chat, Agent Barton,” he said coolly. “I have a problem with the way you’ve been treating me. The way all of the Avengers have been treating me.”

“Have they been anything but respectful, sir? Have _I_ been anything other than respectful?” He asked evenly.

“You seem to be having trouble accepting that I know my own limits, that I am capable of doing my job and leading my teams. I do not appreciate being treated like a child or some fragile, _broken_ person. I am not broken. I am so close to being better and I may be on desk duty now but I won’t be for long and will you be able to handle that? Will you be able to compartmentalise and let me do my job, even if it puts me in danger?”

“Could you?” Clint shot back, “If you were in my position could you come back from what happened just like that? Could you let go of the guilt and the worry and the nightmares of what could have happened?”

Phil hesitated. “No,” he replied eventually, his voice softer, “but I’d trust you to make your own choices. I may not know the details of your past--I don’t even know when your birthday is--but I do know _you_ and that means I trust you with everything. Don’t you trust me?”

“What do you mean you don’t know my birthday?”

“Really? That’s what you latch on to?” Phil asked incredulously. “Your file is classified, you know that. You _asked_ for that.”

“Level _Seven_ classified. You could have accessed it anytime in the last four years. Why didn’t you?”

“I…” Phil paused. “Because you had started to trust me. I couldn’t risk that. And I wanted you to tell me yourself, to _let_ me in.”

Clint’s eyes widened, as if he had just put together a puzzle and found the results surprising. He was silent for a moment. “January 7th, 1971. July 4th, 2008.” 

“What?”

“I was born on the 7th of January, 1971. According to the birth certificate Barney stole and then burned when I was fourteen.”

“And what happened on July 4th, 2008? Wasn’t that the mission in Chile?”

“Two days after we got back. You snuck me onto the roof because I told you I’d never seen fourth of July fireworks.” 

“I don’t know how anyone could miss them, but it’s something you have to see at least once,” Phil said with a smile. “That was a nice night. But why do you mention it?”

“That’s the night I looked at you and saw something other than a coworker.”

Phil was painfully aware of how close they were, so close that he could feel Clint inhale and all of a sudden he himself could barely breathe, but still he had to ask.

“What did you see?”

There was no hesitation this time. Clint smiled softly and immediately replied, “Someone I wanted to spend my fucked up life with.”

Phil inhaled sharply. “Five years?” he asked. “We’re both idiots!”

Clint didn’t look away, still waiting for something. 

“I’m not going to tell you how long I’ve been in love with you. I’m not sure even I know exactly--I’m sure Director Fury knows, the bastard--but it’s probably been longer than five years,” Phil said, grinning uncontrollably. “And as much as I would _love_ to get straight into getting to know you, biblically,” he waggled his eyebrows ridiculously and Clint laughed, “we’re actually in the middle of a mission and this is a terrible time. Next time you should take that sort of thing into account, Agent Barton. Can’t go wasting agency resources.”

Clint smirked. “I wasn’t planning on there being a second time, Agent Coulson.”

“You fight dirty, Clint,” Phil mock scolded, his tone completely ruined by the giant, dorky grin on his face. After a comment like that there was only one thing Phil could do in good conscience. He leant forward, cupped Clint’s jaw with one hand and kissed him thoroughly. When he’d thought about it (and he’d thought about it a lot), he’d imagined that he would kiss Clint softly and lovingly, but it probably suited them better the way it turned out. Filthy and desperate with more tongue than was normally appropriate. Although the situation itself was inappropriate from the start. They were at work, in the middle of a small crisis probably being monitored by that stalker, Stark. However, Phil very quickly decided that he didn’t care all that much and promptly slid his free hand down to cup Clint’s fantastic ass and pull him closer. The sirens were still going on in the background but Phil’s headache was miraculously gone (probably because all his blood had rushed elsewhere).

They were finally interrupted by Cint’s com-link beeping, followed immediately by Phil’s. Phil took a very small step back, but kept himself firmly in Clint’s personal space and did not move the hand that was on Clint’s ass. If he had anything to say about it that hand wasn’t moving for a long time.

Clint flashed him a self-satisfied grin and said, “I knew you loved my ass,” before answering his com in his Agent Barton voice (that Phil should not find as hot as he did).

Phil waited a moment before answering his own com. “Coulson here, what do you want?” he snapped.

“Jeeze, Coulson, what crawled up your ass and died?” Stark asked. “Actually, don’t answer that. All but one hostile accounted for. Is Barton with you?”

“He’s here, yes. And I’m fine. We’re going to have a group meeting about how fine I really am. You need to stop mothering me, Stark. It’s not a good look on you.”

“Everything is a good look on me,” he replied immediately. There was the sound of explosions in the background.

“You better not be destroying R&D right now, Stark,” he warned. 

“Nope, I’m on level two at the moment, just caught the last hostile.” There was a click as Stark opened his com to the team. “All hostiles accounted for.”

“Team debrief, my office. One hour,” Coulson ordered.

“I thought Agent Sitwell was our handler for now?” Steve asked politely. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to it, Sir?”

“Yes,” he said calmly. “Agent Sitwell is officially relieved of his duties as of now.”

“Thank fuck!” Jasper said with feeling.

He turned his comm off. Clint was still talking, assuring someone (probably Steve) that he would be at the debriefing. After a minute he too switched off his comm, a specialised unit attached to his hearing aid, and Phil watched as his professional mask melted away to reveal someone who was _very_ pleased with himself. His cocky smile would have been annoying on anyone else, but Phil was far gone enough to find it endearing instead. Besides, he had a cocky smile of his own. It was a special occasion.

“October 7th, 2012,” Phil grinned. “A good day to remember.”

Clint mirrored his grin. “Damn right it is,” he said, and pulled Phil in for another kiss.

They would have been late for their meeting, if it hadn’t been held in the room they were already in. It was a good thing they were still leaning against the door.

A few hours later, Phil sat on the edge of his bed, naked, and checked his email while he waited for Clint to finish in the shower (it was a very small shower, unfortunately). He had twenty-seven new emails but only one was marked urgent.

 

**From: Director Nicholas J. Fury**

**To: Agent Philip J. Coulson**  

_Aren’t you glad you made that bet?_

_ps. Stark may not have the footage from this afternoon, but I certainly do. I’ll ignore the rules for now, because damn Cheese it took you long enough. Jaz has informed me that we are required by some kind of friendship law to double date. You’ve been warned._

_-Marcus_

 

He laughed so hard he cried and when Clint came out, hair still dripping, to see what the commotion was about all he could do was chuckle and pull him into bed and kiss his smiling mouth.

It was the best bet he’d ever made.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :). I reply to all comments and can be found on tumblr at withfiendfyre.tumblr.com


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